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mirkwoodmunson · 2 years ago

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silly boy

eddie munson x gn!y/n

850 words

you pick eddie up from lockup and give him a good scolding

contains: lil angst, lil fluff, lil bit of hopper, est. relationship, pre-s3-4 tw: cursing, drug mention, jail mention, self-deprecation, scolding a/n: wanting to do more short n’ sweet lil drabbles cause they’re easier more fun and my brain hurt — shoot me some ideas! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“What the fuck, Munson,” your voice croaks, weighty with a mixture of anger, relief, watching him sheepishly make his way towards you.

You stand beneath the ‘HAWKINS POLICE’ sign, stood in front of Eddie’s van with tightly crossed arms. Hopper nods at you once, eyeing Eddie with final regard before turning back inside.

Eddie holds up placating hands, but something in your gut twists and you purse your lips, almost glaring from behind your lashes. You shift away from him as he draws near, not letting him touch you like he very much wants to. He tries to meet your gaze but keeps looking away.

“y/n, listen, I-“

“No, Eddie — what the fuck?!! Do you know Wayne’s been worried sick about you?? That I- I’ve been looking for you Eds, for days, till Chief Jim Fucking Hopper lets your uncle know you got picked up across state lines?!? What the fuck were you thinking??”

Angry hot tears have begun spilling, dripping heavily from your jaw, but rather than cry you just swallow the knot in your throat and jab a finger into his chest.

“Get in the car, Eddie.”

You hold it there a moment before turning and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Eddie stands there for a moment after you’ve turned away and just, looks down at the pavement, heart in his stomach. After a few beats he sighs, walks around the other side and slowly climbs into the passenger side, dully closing the door.

“You know I don’t care that you sell, Eddie — I don’t; I know that you do it for a reason, God knows I’ve got my fair share from you. But—“ you heave an exasperated sigh and gesture uselessly with your hands before dropping them heavily into your lap.

“What were you doing??”

You look over at him, Eddie looks down into his lap, spinning a ring on one of his jeweled fingers.

“Eds. Lookit me.”

Hesitation, before he lifts his head, shyly gazes with those goddamn big brown doe eyes. You sigh again and lean your head against the headrest, brow knitted.

“Your turn. I’ll stop scolding. What were you doing?”

Eddie’s lips thin as he presses them together, swallowing thickly and shaking his head a little, dispirited and very aware he’s deeply upset you.

“Being, fucking dumb—“

“You’re not dumb Eds you just— you make silly decisions sometimes.”

“Is that not what it means to be dumb?”

“No. It’s not. You’re not dumb. You’re silly. I’m sorry I’m so upset, babe, but… You can understand why, right? Eddie — Wayne was crying.”

That gets his head to snap up again, eyes wide and concerned.

“He couldn’t look for you ‘cause he had to work, so he asked me. We were so worried about you, you hadn’t been picked up yet so they weren’t much help,” you nod towards the police station.

“Called around Hellfire, Hideout, checked out Rick’s,” you give a heavy shrug and then rub your eyes.

“We thought—“ you sigh and sag your shoulders. “I don’t know, Eddie, we thought you got hurt. That something happened. You left your van, so like — what if someone…”

Eddie squeezes your hand and a few more tears drop. He’d had deals go wrong before, bad customers, and even though you knew Eddie, he wasn’t exactly the most well-liked person around town. You’d seen him get hurt before.

“I’m really sorry,” his voice is a little strained, upset that he’s upset you.

“I’m dumb — point fuckin’ blank — I’m dumb. It was a big deal, two-hundred bucks, they wanted to drive out someplace and I’m dumb, I realize how dumb that is now and—“

You kiss him quiet, pulling him in with hands cupped against his neck.

“Eddie Munson you are not fucking dumb!” You giggle tearfully against his lips, foreheads pressed together as he scoops your cheeks up and holds you near, pecking your nose and cheeks.

“I’m an ass, a big giant ass—“

“Shut up,” you hiss with a soft smile, nipping his bottom lip to which he finally utters a deep chuckle.

“You’re a silly, silly boy and you make silly decisions, and I worry about you and you scared me. You’re not dumb,” a smooch to the corner of his mouth, “you’re not an ass,” one to his jaw.

“Just…please, be more fucking careful. Maybe take a break from selling for a bit, yeah? Wayne is gonna have a heart attack if you go missing again, and then I’m gonna have a heart attack, and then who’s gonna pick you up from jail??”

You give his head a little jostle, and he laughs again, nuzzling his nose alongside yours.

“I promise I promise I promise — I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

You giggle and peck another kiss to his cheek before starting up the van.

“Now get buckled, silly boy, I can see the Chief looking through the window.”

Sure enough Jim Hopper’s scowl is visible through the pane, and Eddie snorts as he fastens his belt before you take him home to his waiting uncle.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x gn!y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson angst #mine #1k

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decadentworld · 2 years ago

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The Baptism.

Billy’s journey to changing his last name, in a last attempt to fully disassociate himself from Neil, takes him to a place he’d never have expected.

※ Billy Hargrove-centric. Side Billy Hargrove/Male Reader.

※ 3,106 words

※ Personal work (not request).

※ Trigger warnings: Child physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. Gaslighting. This might be very triggering for some people.

※ Content & warnings: Original character. Hurt/Comfort. Billy cries a lot. Character death. Non-graphic mentions of smut at the end. Neil is in jail because I said so but it’s not mentioned.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Billy’s always wanted to do change his last name. Initially, he wanted his mom’s last name, but after everything that’s happened and the growth he’s had, he finally understood that, while his mom might have showed him some kindness, she still abandoned him. Left him to rot in that cemetery he had to call house, with the man who murdered him on the inside. She did; Billy did not jump to conclusions. He did his detective homework and found her having already formed another family. So, in that same vein, he does not want to associate himself with her anymore. It hurts to have this notion of his challenged, but it’s getting better with time.

Billy thinks. Paces, in his mind. Scratches at his head, thinking what else there could be, where he could get a new last name from.

At your now shared house, his newfound group of friends (friends!) try to give him some help. Mostly.

“What about your grandpa’s last name?”, asks the puppy of a metalhead he has as a friend.

“Dumbass. That’s ma’s last name, too.”

“Oh. Right.”

The exasperated babysitter chimes in. “Can any of your relatives reclaim you?”

“No living relatives that I know of, Harrington. Plus, I’m already legal. What’s the use?”

“You can still be adopted if you’re over eighteen. Maybe Susan could adopt you…? She has the grounds for it, now.” The badass columnist has a point. But.

But.

Billy looks uneasy. “M-Maybe not.”

There’s a bit of rueful tension after this. You, his anchor, hold his hand and rub circles on it with your thumb.

Billy’s newfound emotional support lesbian chimes in with a sly smile, and she’s joking, but. “Maybe you could take his last name, hm?” Points at you. Wiggles her eyebrows.

Billy blushes so darkly he has to hide in your chest. But quickly deflates. Right. It’s not allowed.

Maybe he cries a little bit over it at night.

And one day, the epiphany.

His littlest superheroine touches his cheek again, like he always allows her to, ever since that 4th of July.

“You have a memory right here. On the tip of your tongue. Wants to come out.”

“Which of all, mousey?”

Her eyes quickly flit over left and right. “A woman. Is old. Has kind eyes.”

Billy feels something rattle at his chest. “What do you mean?”

“She is good to you. Touches you like I am. Makes it better. But is so… ‘ephemeral’.”

Billy doesn’t realize he’s tearing up. Doesn’t even ask the girl where she learnt that big person word. “Wh-What— What does she look like?”

“Red hair, but it’s… She dyed it. Her teeth are all crooked. Her right eye is—”

“White.” Billy can’t speak. “C-Cataract.”

How could he forget? How could he have forgotten?

Granny Maude.

Billy saw her exactly one time in his life, but he’s not sure why he might have forgotten about her even then, for all the impact that she had in his young life.

Billy’s mind fills in the blanks. A little Billy running away from home, limping all the way across the empty beach at night, right after Neil laid into him with steel-toed boots included. When he can’t run anymore, he still runs a little more, just so that he can collapse on the doorstep of a random house and bang his fists on the door.

That’s the only time in his life when Billy asks for: “Help.”

He sees her so clearly right now. He recalls almost being thrown off by her appearance at first, but quickly pushing this aside when she takes him into her little secluded house, sits him on her rickety old individual sofa, asks him if he’s alright, gives him water, aspirin, treats him so nicely that he cries. Ruefully tells him he looks like someone she knows. Asks his full name so that she can call the police.

“Hargrove?” It’s not a common last name. The old lady has a foreboding at the back of her mind. Quickly puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Sonny, what is your father called?”

Little Billy tells her. It can’t be possible. The septuagenarian runs to the phone but the banging on the door stops her.

“Maude, open up! I know he’s in here!” The booming voice of the monster roars.

The woman continues to the phone, dials the emergency line, starts to rely the message but the quick turning of a key in a keyhole makes the phone slip off her hands and shatter on the floor from the impact.

The big bad barges in and rips the base of the rotary phone off the wall for good measure.

“You never told me you had a son! I have a grandson?!”, she screams at him with all the vigour a 74-year-old can manage.

“Senile bitch. This doesn’t concern you.” The villain’s boots shake the foundation of the house as he approaches his son. He grabs him by the hair. “I fucking hate you right now. I do not want to hear a single word from you—”

“How can you treat your own son like that—”

“Shut up! Cops are on their way and not for me. Maybe they’ll finally commit you.” He turns to the boy. “Go to the fucking car. Get in and don’t let a single person see you. If anyone does, I’ll fucking kill you.”

It’s a bit of a blur after that. From what the therapist told him, it’s normal that his mind might have supressed some memories, especially if they had to do with Neil’s abuse.

Wait. The words. He remembers— He keeps hearing them—

“She doesn’t exist, William. She’s not fucking real. Forget that you ever thought up someone like that. She’s not real.”

He understands. Neil forced him to forget she ever existed.

And as always, with everything Neil said, Billy obeyed.

Billy finds himself hysterical and screaming with how much he’s crying after resurfacing from this memory. Jonathan, Will, Joyce, and Jim are now on the sides of him, trying to calm him down without understanding much of what’s going on.

“H-He made me forget her. He m-made me think she n-never existed. But she’s real. She’s real.”

She’s real. Or was.

Deep digging doesn’t do much this time. Any leads on who Maude Hargrove is or might have been are hard to follow. Which is when it occurs to them to hire Murray, see if he has any knowledge on genealogical tree tracking.

And he does. He’s an expert, actually.

“Largo al factotum, I said.” And with that sentence, he closes the case.

Maude Rathbone.

It turns out she never took her husband’s last name. Billy commends her for it, knows how unusual and frowned upon that must have been in her era.

Maude Rathbone passed away at the age of 77 in 1981, when Billy was about to turn 14, about four years after that fateful night. She died not in the comfort of her cozy old home or in a caring nursing facility, but in a psychiatric hospital. Neil did end up committing her that night. Dialed the charm up and told the police officers he was so worried for his mother, that he was afraid she was turning senile, that she had called him into her home because she was seeing a boy that just wasn’t there. No one even bothered to check Neil’s car, within which a frail little boy was fearing for his life.

Billy learns a new word in therapy the next day: ‘Gaslight’.

Murray helps them more. The next few days you, Billy, and Hopper gear up and go to the psychiatric facility all the way in California to get more answers.

Everyone there believed Neil that time. Who wouldn’t have? A charming middle-aged man versus an old woman they found undesirable because they thought cataracts and crooked missing teeth and cheap red dye was a sign of poverty, of carelessness, of mental illness. All things society is not ready to tolerate. The folks in charge at the psychiatric are nonchalant as they imply all this when the three ask for a Maude Rathbone, saying she wrote letters to a boy that didn’t exist, that they assured her the boy received if only to palliate the outbursts of a senile elder in her last days. Only, those letters never left the facility.

But when Billy soon-to-be-ex-Hargrove announces himself as that very boy, the people in charge can’t believe it.

“Of course I’m fucking real, you fucking assholes! ‘You never thought to look me up or anything?!”

Hopper lets him have this. He all but demanded to be brought in with you and Billy if there needed to be some more convincing on his behalf, but he figures it’s not necessary, in the end.

Obviously, they allow him to take all those letters and the rest of her trinkets with them. It’s the least they can do.

Later in the evening, at the hotel, you comfort Billy, who’s already started to cry as he reads the first letter.

Dear Billy,

You are real and I am real. Whatever my son has told you, because I know he has, is untrue. That man is a real piece of work and never told me about you. War changed him, but that’s not an excuse for him, because he walked right into it all on his own. He would get violent with me, cut all contact with me because I was spot on in telling him he was spiraling. Reminds me of Mortimer, but the piece of shit died before he was even born, so I had quite a few years of peace before all that.

Billy laughs softly between his tears and lays his head on your shoulder. Mortimer Hargrove was her husband, Neil’s father. So his grandfather was also shitty, but he felt glad Maude could lay into him and say things like they were.

Neil got paranoid after some time. I knew he thought I was going to report him to the police. I wouldn’t have. I didn’t have anyone. No one would have believed me. So of course I believed you. He hurt you badly, his own son. I think it’s fate that you knocked on my door last night. I still don’t know if it was completely out of the blue, or if you felt like I would be welcoming enough, and for that, you are very brave.

Tears drip constantly on the yellowed sheet of paper. Billy was about to enter a void of self-deprecation, but the next few lines stop him in his tracks and pull another laugh out of him, because it’s like she was reading his mind at the moment she wrote the letter.

Now, don’t you dare think any of this is your fault, sonny. I know your kind, because I was it. I know you’re probably thinking I got put in this place because of you. Stop it. None of this could have been avoided. I would’ve surely ended up in a place like this sooner or later.

Billy disagrees. The way she expresses herself in these letters is so clear; she was extremely lucid for a 74-year-old at that moment.

Billy’s heart breaks as he keeps reading the last few lines.

Please, find me. Come live with me. We can run away from him together. I could prove to them that you’re real, and they’d give me the grounds for adoption. I know there’s no saving that monster.

I love you, sonny. I will find you somehow.

Gammy Maude

Billy breaks down in your arms. “Sh-She only knew m-me for like ten minutes and she still lov-ved me.” He starts hyperventilating. “She f-found me. She found me, in th-the end!”

It takes well over half an hour before Billy’s composed enough to keep reading the rest of the letters. His heart breaks a little more with each one.

At first, they end with:

Hope to see you soon. Love you.

But as he keeps going, it gradually turns into:

Neil’s not letting you see these, is he? Please write back.

And then, into:

Are you real? Lord, give me a sign that my sonny is real.

Fuck Neil. Fuck the police. Fuck the psychiatric handlers. Fuck society. Fuck everyone who ever saw this little old woman and wholeheartedly believed she could be a menace. Billy cries for her. Mourns her, because Lord knows no one ever did.

For the night, Billy forgets that this all started because he wanted to change his last name. Even if he can’t, in the end, he’ll content himself with this.

But he can!

“Look, she’s a direct relative. Blood-related relative. They have to allow you. It’s basically your God-given right. And if for whatever reason they wanna fight it, then all these letters of hers? They’ll be as good of an evidence as there can be. Look at the writing. The exact same as all the legal files on her name. And the signature! God, I love your grandma. She made this so easy.” Murray is almost histrionic as he shoves sheets upon sheets of paper on the table.

Billy can’t help but agree. Gammy Maude was a genius. She somehow had the foresight to add her signature onto the letters, like she knew they could be used as evidence someday.

Everything is arranged that same day.

Billy starts crying before Hopper even hands him his new identification card.

“Kid, you haven’t even seen it yet. Save the tears for after.” Another one of Hopper’s hidden skills: be persuasive enough to accelerate the ID card making process, photo-taking included. So much so that the shiny new plastic is in Hopper’s hand before the day even ends.

“C-Can’t help it, chief. This is my new life we’re talking about.”

Hopper just gives him a gruff chuckle and puts a hand on his shoulder. Billy takes the card and pointedly doesn’t look at it until he goes to stand next to you, near the stairway outside. There are curiously-colored flags in this part of California. They make Billy feel even more accepted and at home.

“Come on,” you gently encourage him. “Look at it.”

He does. The tears can’t stop.

You hold him through it, and even as his eyes get so blurry from the tears that he can’t possibly read what’s printed in the plastic card anymore, he still looks at it like his eyes are pulled to it.

That’s how everyone’s going to call him from now on.

Billy Rathbone.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Billy doesn’t answer you, and you realize that he didn’t even take in your question. He cries, so hard that you worry for him, but he’s smiling so widely at the same time, and that dissipates any doubts you might have.

“You did it, honey.”

“N-No. We did it. A-All of us.”

You hoist Billy up and spin him around, rejoicing in his screaming laughter.

Back in Hawkins, things gradually change for the better.

Steve challenges him for a basketball match, wanting a redo of their previous rivalry without the bitterness.

“Come on, Rathbone. You stomped on my crown twice. Was King of Highschool and Keg as well. Not gonna let you be King of Basketball, too.”

God. Steve is so obvious with this attempt, even trying to channel his King Steve persona into his words, but Billy’s smiling so much he temporarily forgets he should respond with anything at least vaguely antagonistic.

Steve smiles shyly. “Creamed your pants for a second there?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable. Bring it on!”

Robin all but drags him to a big gathering with the party. “Hey! You guys remember Billy Rathbone?!”

Robin’s even more obvious than Steve, emphasizing his last name so overtly Billy’s almost worried for a second of how everyone’s going to react. Eddie and Steve almost chide her.

No need for that. The kids look at him in wonder. El gives him the biggest grin ever. Lucas raises his eyebrows amusedly. Dustin gives him the toothiest toothless smile. Erica only looks smug for once in her life. Will has the softest smile on his face. Mike can’t keep his self imposed grimace of someone who’s sucking on a lemon for long enough because it’s clear he’s trying not to smile.

And Max?

From her sitting position on her wheelchair, she extends her fully healed right arm. “Let me see it.”

“Let her see it! Yeah!” Robin is so enthusiastic about Billy showing Max his new ID that she’s almost jumping in place.

Max takes a good look at the shiny new plastic. Then slowly looks up at him.

Billy doesn’t know what to make of her expression and the sepulchral silence that follows before she speaks.

“Of course you had to go and call yourself Rat Bone.”

Everyone laughs. Billy does, too. He doesn’t know why he was worried.

Wait. He’s tearing up a little bit as well.

Max downright forces him to hug her.

“Don’t you dare say anything, shitbird. What kinda name is May Field? Sounds like… uh…”

“Yeah, yeah. Give yourself an aneurysm thinking of something, will you.” They separate. “Just tell me everything after it.”

And he does. He tells them about Gammy.

“Hey,” you say to Billy, him so comfortable deep in the bedsheets after you’re done laying all your love on him. “If… no, when we’re able to marry,” and he of course has to blush to the tips of his ears, even after you’ve literally just finished making love, “…you’re not gonna take my last name, right?”

Billy tears up. “Please, d-don’t make me—”

“Of course I won’t. That was a threat.” You smile at him while you make him this oh-so-scary threat. He smiles as well. “You better not. ‘Billy Rathbone’ just sounds too good to change.”

There’s always hope.

Billy Rathbone wears a different necklace nowadays. Whereas he used to have a Virgin Mary one, which belonged to his egg donor, he now has one in the format of a locket. There is a photograph inside, the only one Murray could find. But it’s perfect.

Of course, he did not crop the original photograph. He put it through the photocopier once, twice, three times before it was the perfect size.

In this locket, he keeps a photocopied picture of Maude Rathbone, smiling with her gorgeous missing and blackened crooked teeth, sporting a lovely frizzy hairdo that’s just the perfect hue of vintage red, looking at the camera with one ethereal cataractous eye.

#stranger things x male reader #billy hargrove x male reader #angst #fanfic #I’m thinking I could turn Rebirth into a series and put this work in it.

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chiisaikintsukuroi-moved · 2 years ago

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

NAME: Stray

PRONOUNS: She/Her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Just an ask through here is fine, a few people have my Discord and that's totally fine too.

NAME OF MUSE(S): Edward Elric, this is speciffically an AU of a modern universe for the character and is the main, default verse I play off of. Anything else has to be requested or plotted out. I have two other blogs on here for two other muses(Pride!Ed from Bluebird's Illusion and Peter Parker from the MCU) and if you have ever RPed with me on Discord there's probably....10-12 other characters I play as ranging from canon to OCs?

EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): On tumblr since 2014, in general probably ....2007 or 2008? So at least 14 years now

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: GaiaOnline, Skype, tumblr, and Discord

BEST EXPERIENCE: After RPing this long, theres no way to pick just one, there's just way too many instances

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: I would have to say the top two would be not reading rules/abouts(they are there FOR A REASON), and just genrally bashing/harrassing someone just because their portrail/ships/verses/whatever just aren't someone else's particular cup of tea. Like the unnecessary being mean and vile just for the sake of it or to make yourself feel better, take it somewhere else. We're here to have fun.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: I enjoy fluff because I'm usually mean to a number of muses I play, both on and off tumblr and yes, sometimes muses being tooth rottingly sweet together, platonic or otherwise, is fantastic. Angst is actually one of my favorite "genres" and I love getting to play it, but I can't always find partners that want to do that. Part of that is I've had a lot of partners who take "angst" to just mean relationship angst/pining and that's...not what I'm looking for. Smut I'm fine with but I'm not great at, and it has to be 1) with a muse that my muse is interested in to some level and 2) a mun that I'm comfortable with as well. I've done kinky and vanilla stuff but as someone who's asexual, it's...weird, sometimes? I can do a whole thread of kink and then for the next two months want nothing to do with it while my muse is in horny jail.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I like both! Memes are great for on the fly, ice breakers, or as one of my friends likes to do sending "a challenge"(a.k.a. sending something with no warning or context and wishing the best of luck to figure out something to do with it. Lots of fun). I do also love plotting too, both in depth in one go and just figuring out some basics but then building up on it as we go.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: I don't have a preference. Both are great in their own ways, but I need at least something to work with. Two lines is not something to work with usually unless it's like....a crack thread, or similar.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: If I am awake and not busy, it's a good time to write. I'm halfway nocturnal ask anyone who's talked to me at length for a month, and most stuff I reply back to pretty quickly, 1-2 days is my average unless I really need to think out a reply so yeah...if I'm awake.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): I think there are a few similar traits, but I wouldn't say I'm just like any one of them.

Tagged by: @protectivemuses Tagging: anyone who’s interested in doing this for themselves!

#((I've been tagged~))#((About the mun))#((stray chat))#protectivemuses

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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The Great Escape

Summary: If there’s one thing Sheriff Gray can’t resist, it’s a pretty outlaw on their knees in his jail cell.

Pairing: Leigh Gray x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2109

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Rhodes, BJ’s, Strangers to lovers, Drinking, Dirty talk.

Notes: I’ve already posted this, but Tumblr deleted the whole thing?? so yeah, here’s a repost lol

Leigh staggers into his office, drunker than he was when he left a few hours ago. He's probably been at the Saloon, leaving his office completely unguarded whilst he spent his shift getting drunk. One of the deputies did pop by here and there, but only to grab a couple of items and leave. Surprisingly, they're all not as stupid as they look, as you saw them take the cell keys when they left. But that's about as smart as the people around Rhodes are.

Leigh takes a seat at his desk, attempting not to fall off his chair as he kicks his feet up onto the surface, a small amount of dust spilling onto the wood that he's trailed in from outside. He rummages through the draws until he finds a small bottle of gin, pulling the cork out and taking a swig. His eyes meet yours as the bottle is removed from his lips. He keeps his gaze on you as he licks the gin from his lips, putting the cork on and placing it on his desk.

You're sat back on the cell bed, head pressed against the cold brick wall, watching him purely for entertainment purposes. Him and his boys were a strange bunch, and every time they appeared, they did something that'd leave you forcing back your laughter, not wanting to risk being told off. They were odd, but Rhodes was odd, so it was no surprise.

"You been watchin' me?" Leigh asks.

"Sure," you shrug.

"Why?"

"It's funny watchin' a man such as yourself get drunk on duty," you reply.

"You tryna disrespect me?" he questions.

"Hard to disrespect someone who disrespects the town he swore to protect by drowning himself in moonshine," you mock, enjoying the way his cheeks turn even redder than before.

Leigh frowns as he takes his feet off his desk, slowly standing up and making his way over to your cell. He places one hand on the bar to prop himself up, tilting his head slightly as he speaks to you with that awful southern drawl.

"You can't tell me nothin' about disrespect when you ain't even the one followin' the law," Leigh tuts.

"Ain't gettin' drunk on shift also not following the law?" you question.

Leigh opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it again. He stands there for a few moments, the cogs in his head slowly turning as he decides on a reply. With a small wave of his hand, he moves off the topic, quickly changing it to something else instead.

"You know, for an outlaw, you're far too pretty. Why'd you turn to a life of crime when you could have married any fella you wanted 'n' lived a life of luxury?" Leigh asks with a few cracks to his voice that you try not to giggle at.

"Those fancy men ain't as pretty as I am," you joke.

"And them outlaws are?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, Sherrif..." you begin as you stand up from the bed, slowly pacing over to him. "Them outlaws are far more fun and unhinged than you civilized folk, or folk pretending to be civilized. Ain't you tempted to a life full of pleasure and enjoyment?" you ask, stopping in front of him.

Leigh's eyes momentarily look you up and down, but he remains in the same position with one ankle crossed over the other, and one arm leaning against the bars above his head.

"I already got a life full of pleasure and enjoyment right here, darlin'," Leigh tells you.

"You sure? Cause I don't see no ring on that finger," you jokingly pout.

"You tryna ask if I'm available, Stranger?"

"I know you're available, Sheriff," you smirk. You enjoy the way Leigh's face drops, letting out a sigh as he shifts his weight to stand upright, his arm moving away from the cell.

"You bitch," Leigh frowns, "you tryna insult me?"

"I must have if you're gettin' worked up over this," you continue to smirk, enjoying the way Leigh's face continued to drop. "What's a matter? You sad cause you can't get no pussy?"

"You're temptin' me to enter that cell and give you a spankin' for talking down to an enforcer of the law," Leigh reply, resting his hands on his gunbelt as he puffs his chest out a little.

"That just sounds like a good time for the both of us."

"Is that what you like? I ain't surprised that you're the rough type," he says.

"And I'm going to assume from the way a bulge is forming in your pants that you're into it just as much as I am," you grin as your eyes flick down to his crotch. You'd noticed his hard-on growing throughout the conversation, but you felt like now was the perfect timing to point it out.

Leigh's face continues to drop. He straightens his back and takes a step back, debating on turning around and walking away, or attempting to cover himself up with his hands. Both are embarrassing, just as much as this situation that he's accidentally walked himself into. So instead, he faces you and smirks as his hand returns to resting on the cell bars above him, leaning forward to speak against them.

"Now how's about you do us both a favour and get on them knees?" Leigh orders.

"Else what, Sheriff?"

"Else I'll turn around 'n' walk out," he shrugs. "I ain't takin' anythin' by force."

You study his expression for a second before slowly dropping to your knees, pressing them against the cell bars as you look up at Leigh and bat your eyelashes, waiting for his next order.

"Good, real good," he says as he begins to unbuckle his belt, swiftly chucking his gunbelt to the floor far from your reach, still not trusting you to behave yourself.

His eyes are on yours as he pulls his length out, slowly stroking himself in his hand. His cock is just as pale as he is, with a soft red tip and the faint outline of a few veins. He's more than enough to satisfy your needs, and your mouth instinctively falls open as he pushes his length between the cell bars.

"That's it," Leigh says as you slip his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and lowering your head on him.

He lets out a soft moan, eyes half shutting as he grips onto the cell bars tightly. His forehead rests against them, eyes watching you as you begin to bob your head along his length, trying not to giggle at the way his voice continues to crack even when he's moaning.

You press your tongue against the underside of his cock as you move, feeling his veins run along your tongue. Leigh moves one of his hands off the cell bars, reaching through and tangling it into your hair. He doesn't push at you, simply resting his hand there as he enjoys you taking the lead.

"Shit," Leigh sighs, his eyes finally shutting as he lets out a choked moan. Either this man was extremely sensitive on a normal day, or the alcohol had heightened the nerves on his cock. You can feel his length twitching and throbbing more as every second passes, and he doesn't hold back on his moans, letting them escape his lips freely. It was late, and you'd be surprised if anybody was out at this time, but surely a few townsfolk would be walking past every so often as they trickle out from the Saloon.

"Shame about these bars," Leigh sighs. "I'd like to put it in you, but you just had to break the law, didn't you?" he tuts, his eyes slightly opening to meet yours.

"You don't trust me, Sheriff?" you ask as you pull off his length, replacing your mouth with your hand.

"Not in the slightest," he replies, shaking his head.

"But you trust me to put my mouth around your cock? Ain't afraid I'll bite it off?" you question as your hand pumps him.

"I know you won't do that, not unless you want a real punishment," he replies. "And I don't mean just a spanking," Leigh adds.

"You wanna tie me up and fuck me whilst I'm defenseless? Is that your form of punishment?" you ask as you bat your lashes.

"Oh, now that's tempting. I'll save that for next time though, seeing as you'll be here a while whilst we sort out transporting you to Sisika."

"Well, I'll look forward to that," you smirk, moving your mouth back on his length as your hand pumps the parts of him that your mouth can't quite reach.

As you begin to work up your pace, you reach your hand through the cell bars to grip onto the belt loops of his pants, pulling his hips forward until they're pressed right up against the cell. Leigh lets out a moan at your eagerness, his eyes falling shut as he takes a tighter grip of your hair, his other hand gripping onto the bars, tight enough that his knuckles turn white.

He continues to moan heavily, eventually having to lean his weight against the cell to stop his knees from buckling under him. You're making this man see stars as you continue to bob your head along his length, your hand working at his base, your tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his cock.

Leigh lets out a choked moan and half opens his eyes, quickly telling you "I'm gonna cum." The sight of you on your knees tips him over the edge as he spills his load down your throat, resting his forehead against the cold cell bars as he pants heavily.

You pull off his length, swallowing him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Leigh opens his eyes fully to see you standing up, his mouth still parted and his cheeks redder than his hair.

"I can't believe I just let you do that," Leigh says as he fastens his pants up. "Gonna be a real shame to see you leave."

"Why don't you just keep me then, huh?" you wink.

"Oh, don't you tempt me. I'd break the law if it meant gettin' that treatment every night," he sighs.

"Some Sheriff you are then," you smirk, watching as Leigh moves his weight from the cell and attempts to stand upright, still drunk and hazy from your hard work.

"Now don't you say that," Leigh tells you as he slowly stumbles back to his desk, picking up his gunbelt on the way and after many attempts, managing to put it on, though it sags a little lower than usual.

Leigh takes the already opened bottle of gin on his desk and makes his way to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he tells you as he exits, not locking the door behind him. You assume another deputy will be switching over with him soon, but after about ten minutes, nobody has arrived.

Nows your chance. You take the cell keys from your pocket that you had managed to unhook from Leighs belt when he was far too occupied. There was a reason why you grabbed hold of his belt and pulled his hips against the bars, and it seems Leigh hadn't clicked on to that.

Leigh's eyes suddenly go wide as he reaches behind him to take his house keys off his belt, only to find the usual metal loop with all of them on it was missing. For a lawman, he was stupid enough to keep everything on there - cell keys, house keys, office keys, etc.

Shit.

Leigh attempts to run back to the office, stumbling the whole way, only to find the door wide open and an empty cell inside. His keys are sat on his desk, at least you were kind enough to do that, but his draws full of liquor had been emptied, along with a few boxes of bullets and some snacks for the road.

Leigh shakes his head as he leans back on his desk. How was he stupid enough to fall for that? Sure, it felt good, real good, but what story is he going to tell the others when they ask why you were missing from your cell? That you gave him a blowjob whilst he was drunk on the job and managed to swipe his keys from his belt whilst his cock was down your throat?

He's going to have to think of a story quick since he can see one of his deputies approaching, ready for their shift.

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ask-darkvoyager · 4 years ago

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I don't even know where this is all gonna be leading to, but I've just been wanting to say something about just how it's been for me. I've generally been having really terrible days consistently for the past couple of months. Things in my past that have long been finished keep coming back into my head. Old fights between friends haunt me almost day at this point. Discord has become not a place for me to check on my friends, but a toxic jail which I keep myself locked up in. Personal life problems have been stacking up consistently, casuing me to be more stressed than I ever have been in my life. It feels like everyday I'm fighting some kind of ancient never ending battle with myself, or problems that I are definitely not mine but I put myself in to try to help others. On the note of helping others, I probably do an unhealthy amount of helping, being kind and trying to solve others problems. In fact, that's how it's been my whole life. I have reached I point in my brain where I will put myself on a lower standard to not care about myself compared to all my friends. Anyone who reads this will know that's unhealty but so far the way life has taught me is that no one else is gonna help me when I needed it the most, so fuck it I'll help everyone I can. There is still a part of me that still cares for me but it's just a sliver so small that it keeps me sane.

To those who are around me often enough, always joking around and trying to be happy, thank you. I'm terrible at thanking those around me for their kindness in the moment but it means a lot when you know someone cares for you. To those I consider my friends but haven't really hanged out like we used to, it's okay. I know it felt like we were going to be friends that were close from the time we met but, life decided differently. I'm sorry if I ever did anything to any one of my friends that may of caused them to distance themselves from me, because I never meant for that to happen.

I feel like this blog has become it's own nightmare to me that I cannot control. I know I do not post much here anymore besides reposting space related stuff and friends art, but that's all I feel like doing. I tried to do something cool and interactive with my characters but I feel overwhelmed by the fact that being kind isn't "in fashion" anymore. Being some badass with little to no emotions and havinv a good looking body is all everyone wants these days, and how could you blame someone? Again, maybe I'm wrong but it doesn't feel like I am.

To sum up all of this: I feel really stuck on deciding what should I do with myself anymore. Should I just forget myself and help others? Should I give up? Should I try anymore? Because as of right now life has only shown me that my kindness has been used against me, and my time felt wasted. I want to be wrong about this all, this feeling but it's not changing anytime soon.

I want to be me again, the one who always was happy in the worst situations. Not this soulless being that feels like I am only a scapegoat, only a joke, only some kid on Discord or Tumblr. Only some person who always has to be ready for the worst whenever someone comes to ask for help.

I need help...and I don't know how to accept it.

---

I'm adding this to the already long rant I wrote. There was a 30 minute gap from when I wrote this and what I wrote above. If anyone takes offense to what I said I'm really sorry, but I cannot let people use me anymore. I only have this one life of my own and the last thing I want is people to waste my time. There is one person who I have committed myself to, and if you're reading this you know who you are. I love you. It's gonna take a lot of work from myself to get to a place where I feel truly happy again, and if I'm being grim about it, it's because the people around me (AKA family members) have always taught me that nothing is easy in this life and that you really freaking need to spend your time being happy. I'll try to be happy any time I get, more so with people I love to spend time with. I only hope my time spent with those people mean something to them, if only a little.

I've been wanting to leave Discord again, for a majority of my anxiety comes from that app. I know it can be my happy place but it right now, I go onto the app expecting someone to come tell me some kinda drama is happening. As of now do not know of any type of drama in a while....maybe I haven't believed I could move on anymore.

I do not expect anyone to do much reading this, but thank you for reading my rant. Some day I'll do better...some day.

-Zapp

#vent #thank you again to anyone who read this and cared to spend time on me

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thetigershymn · 5 years ago

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The Way Things Are Gonna Be From Now On (And Why I’m Back And Shit)

Part One: Why I’m Back And Shit

(a repost)

When I was a young child, someone made the mistake of letting me find out about Greek mythology and honestly I think we can all agree that’s about the time shit got real messy real fast.

When I was a teenager, more people made the mistake of letting me find out that it was not, in fact, impossible to worship the Greek gods, as I had been informed, that it was, in fact, something people still did, and that it was, in fact, permitted in polite society. This was also some messy fucking shit.

When I was a young adult, nobody mistakenly let me decide to stop fucking around permitting other people to dictate what the gods were to me and what I was to them. That one was on me. It was hot fucking mess levels of shit.

And so there I was, careening blissfully and explosively through life with my secondhand candles and dumb shitty Greek pronunciations, living my life like a burnt out alcoholic who just discovered a bigger, stronger fix and is All About It, and then came the Light. And He was fixed, and rooted, and eternal, and certain, and the greatest absolute. And suddenly He was the only thing that mattered. The only thing at all. I knew nothing except that He would never leave me. And so I broke all the rules, and leapt.

Now, that was not a mistake. A hot mess? Of course. The most absolute bull fucking shit on multiple levels? Certainly. But of all other things in my life, this one thing, a mistake? Never. Never.

And for a while, I was anchored, I had my island in the storm. I built my home there, shaped my life around it, embraced it as the source of all good things. But I got cocky. I spent so long on my happy protected island that I forgot the sea was stormy. I took my island for granted.

This is not the sort of story where the rug gets pulled out from under me and I lose everything and realize a valuable life lesson about appreciating what I have before it’s gone. I’ve lost nothing. My island is still there, better than ever, as eternal and as absolutely certain in His ways as ever. I just got lost for a while. To violently beat this dead extended metaphor into the ground, I let the island grow wild. The grass huts got moldy, the coconuts went unharvested, the hibiscus did that thing where you stop cutting them back and they turn into weird lanky trees instead of bushes. And the island never stopped doing its island thing. It never stopped sharing its bounty, protecting me from a storm I had long since forgotten was there, letting me live the good life.

Y’all know the island in the storm is Ares, right? We’re all on the same page here? Right. Cool. I thought so. Anyway, moving on.

Time proceeds. Life is good. Life is GREAT, actually. Problems I had dealt with for years evaporated for good, opportunities opened up so fast I was turning them down because sorry, I’ve already accepted this other opportunity over here first, thanks anyway, fucking Character Growth occured, shit was wild. I was doing things, AM doing things that three years ago experts in those things told me were impossible for me, and would always be impossible for me. And I was BUSY, yo. Living that good life, counting that coin, pursuing those all those opportunities.

And I changed. Repeatedly and aggressively, over and over and over and over. I reached so many levels away from that person who was nothing but scar tissue and loss, looking for a parent and a savior and a great love and a new project and an easy out all wrapped into one, that I didn’t even recognize who that person was anymore. I didn’t feel that desperate keening hunger for someone else, Someone Else, to sweep in and take away all that pain, all that fear and confusion and blind wandering, because I didn’t feel those things anymore. They weren’t part of my life, and hadn’t been for so long that I didn’t really remember that they ever were. The little fucked up shitbird had turned into a beautiful shitswan and flown the coop or whatever. The…swan coop. Look, roll with it.

And was I oblivious to that? Of course not. But “oh man once we clean up this mess and I stop being in danger of self-immolation literally every second of my existence, boy, Him and me, we’re gonna do some great things” slowly shifted into “I’ve gotta get some money in my pocket for, like, basic survival, and I’ve got so much new scary shit to deal with and juggle right now, He understands, otherwise He never would have sent me all this shit to juggle.” And eventually of course that turned into “What matters right now is getting out of basic survival mode and getting to a place where I’m planning a future and building a life, it sucks that He’s taking a back burner but He’d want me to be practical about this” which evolved into “shit, fuck, like, yeah man, I should like, DEFINITELY probably do something about Him, but like……………idk dude, I know I said I was focusing on getting my practical shit straight for a while and then I’d sort it out, and things ARE pretty straight right now, but like, I COULD get my shit EVEN STRAIGHTER so…..”

And so here we sit. The high-functioning success story for divine intervention who definitely, DEFINITELY hasn’t done jack shit to warrant it in like…….six years, easy. An oathbreaker? No, not really, but only through dumb blind luck. An oath-forgetter, sure, yeah. Literally, I can’t remember like 60% of what my oath said or what day I swore it on. Oops, my bad.

And yet. And yet and yet and yet. The island stands eternal. The ship’s still anchored in the storm. More tropical metaphors. The Big Guy watches, and waits, and soothes, and helps. The deity-only Get Out of Jail Free card in our oath remains unused. I remain the Unpunished and Affectionately Tolerated. Why is that? What do I offer? Are standards so low? Is the Ares Fan Club so empty? He could leave. He’s not stuck in this. I built that in. He’s always been free to leave, free to change His mind, free to nullify everything in a heartbeat.

To this day, when I mention that part of the oath, a wave of outrage and repulsion at the thought rolls across me from the outside. Nice to know some things remain constant, I guess.

So….what is this? My apology, I guess. Not to you people, fuck y’all, you’re just witnesses. My apology to Him. He deserves better. He’s always deserved better, throughout all of time and history He’s deserved better, but now, in this, yes, He deserves better. And the truth that I knew instinctively in my core all those years ago is the same truth I know instinctively today: that I could spend the rest of my life trying to fill my debt to Him and it would never, ever be filled. I’m not sure why He doesn’t seem to understand that imbalance, or why He doesn’t care. Why He doesn’t seem to consider that debt to even exist. Over six years I’ve spent waiting for the plot to start, waiting for the debt to get called in, waiting to find out what the fucking POINT is, what’s so fucking necessary about me, why I’m being kept around, what the Great Work is. Over six years I’ve gotten back shhh, this is enough, this is fine, stop looking for meaning when you are enough as you are.

He deserves better. You deserve better, Ares. Maybe not better than me, since that’s such a loathsome idea apparently. But better than I have been. You deserve better. And since You refuse to trade me in for a flashier model, I guess that means I’ll just have to be the better that You deserve.

So what’s that got to do with fuckin’ Tumblr? Oh, nothing whatsoever. Yeah, nah, I’m fucking with y’all, I just need someplace to dump some thoughts and store some notes as I spend the next year getting my fucking priorities straight.

It’s time to grow the fuck up.

#pagan #pagan*#Hellenic polytheism #ares #ares*#the big guy #paganblr

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theycallmebeccawrites · 6 years ago

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One Shot: Making It Official

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Kimber Ramsey (OFC)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: graphic sex

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

This story is also available on AO3.

Kimber Ramsey was on her lunch break when the first text from Chris Evans came through:

Go away with me this weekend?

She smiled at the idea, thinking it would be lovely to get out of the city for a couple days. At the same time, however, she felt a little nervous. She and Chris had only met a couple months ago, albeit through mutual friends, but they still hadn't had the "relationship" discussion to determine if they were exclusive or not. Not that Kimber was seeing anyone else and she didn't think he was either, but he was famous and women were constantly flirting with him, even when they were on a date and she was sitting right across from him.

Needing more information from him, Kimber replied:

Where to?

His response came a couple minutes later.

My cabin. It's about an hour away. In the woods.

Thanks to years of watching crime dramas and reading mystery novels, Kimber's anxiety level rose at the thought of going to a, likely secluded, cabin in the woods. Logically, she knew her reaction was unwarranted, because she knew that Chris wouldn't hurt a fly; maybe a spider or someone who hurt someone he cared about, but even then, she had a hard time seeing it.

Needing to ease her mind, Kimber sent a quick text to her friend who'd introduced her to Chris that past summer.

Chris asked me to go away with him for the weekend.

Alison's response was almost immediate:

Oh my god! That is fantastic!! I told you that you were perfect for each other!!

Kimber chewed on my lower lip as she typed her reply:

So I should say yes?

Seconds after sending the text, Kimber's phone started ringing and her friend's face was displayed. Kimber accepted the call and barely got "hey" out of her mouth before Alison started talking.

"Are you seriously thinking about declining?" she demanded.

"He wants to take me to his cabin in the woods," Kimber explained. "That sounds like the start of an episode of SVU."

"This isn't SVU though," Alison insisted. "This is Chris Evans! Let's pretend for a second that he isn't one of my husband's best friends. If he was a creeper that killed his girlfriends, he would have already been caught and put in jail! But he isn't. He is a famous actor. He isn't going to cut you up and stick you in his freezer."

"I know that," Kimber sighed. "I'm just nervous. We've only been seeing each other for a few months. Isn't it a little fast to go away together?"

"Haven't you stayed the night at each other's places?"

"Well, yes, mostly at my place, though, because I have to get up earlier than he does."

"So treat this like that. Except you're going to his place. Stop overthinking things."

"You're right. I'm overthinking this. Thanks."

"You're welcome! Now go tell Mr. Hottie that you'll go with him this weekend."

After hanging up with Alison, Kimber sent Chris a text accepting his invitation for the weekend. He replied almost instantly:

Perfect! I'll pick you up at your place Friday night after work.

By the time Friday rolled around, Kimber was more than ready to escape the city. Work had been absolutely insane during the last couple of days and she couldn't wait to leave the office. She even took a shorter lunch so she could leave earlier than she usually did.

Since she had packed her weekend bag the night before, all Kimber had to do when she got home was take a quick shower (taking extra care to not get her hair wet), put some makeup on and then get dressed.

It took her roughly 45-minutes to get everything done and, when Chris knocked on her door, she was ready to go. Opening the door, she smiled when she found him standing with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark wash jeans. He was wearing a red, plaid, long sleeve shirt with a black shirt underneath it.

"Hey," he greeted. He slipped his hands from his pockets and leaned in, giving her a short peck on the lips. Leaning back, he took in her black leggings and short sleeve tunic top then shook his head. "I don't think you're going to be warm enough in that."

"Really?" Kimber asked, looking down at her outfit.

"Really." Chris nodded. "Do you mind if I take a look at what you have?"

"Uh, sure," Kimber replied. Stepping back, she let him into her apartment and then closed the door after him. "You know where the bedroom is." She grabbed her weekender bag then followed Chris back to her bedroom. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Jeans, sweatshirt, flannel," Chris rattled off as he opened her closet door after getting her nod of approval.

"The jeans I have, the other two I don't," Kimber replied. "I have sweaters and cardigans though."

"I'll just loan you some of mine," he told her. "I always bring extras." Reaching into the closet, he pulled out two pairs of her jeans then grabbed a couple long sleeved shirts.

"What about pajamas?" she asked him as she removed what she'd packed the night before from her weekender bag. "I think I have a pair of s-"

"We'll stay plenty warm without pajamas," he told her, a smile playing on his lips. "We both know I become a furnace when I sleep."

Kimber smirked at his words, despite the fact that her cheeks warmed. She lifted the silk nightgown from her bag and dropped it onto the bed. Looking up, she saw Chris give her an approving nod.

She repacked her bag and then, after Chris left the room, she changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She tossed one of her favorite sweaters into her bag and then zipped it up. Carrying it out of the room, she found Chris sitting on the couch waiting for her.

"Alright, I'm ready to go," she told him.

"Excellent." Chris smiled. Getting up, he took the bag from her and carried it out to the car for her. He opened her door and then closed it once she was in the car. Then he opened the trunk to put her bag in and pulled out one of his plaid shirts from his own bag before closing the trunk. Walking to his side of the car, he opened it and climbed in.

"Thank you." Kimber smiled after he handed her the shirt. She leaned forward and slipped the shirt on over her long sleeved shirt. She felt warm immediately and loved the way his spicy scent lingered on the well-loved fabric. "You might never get this back."

"We'll see about that." Chris chuckled as he started the car.

The traffic was heavy as they left the city, but the closer they got to his wooded retreat, the fewer cars they saw. They made small talk as they traveled and it was just after sunset when Chris turned onto a gravel road. The drive to his cabin took a few more minutes and before she knew it he was pulling up in front of a small cabin.

"I should warn you right now it's a little rustic and pretty small," he told her.

"Do you have running water? Or am I going to have to use an outhouse?" she asked him, sounding serious as a smile played her lips.

"Yes, there is running water." He chuckled. "And no, there is a small, but fully plumbed bathroom inside."

"Then I won't make you drive me back to the city," she teased. Getting out of the car, she met him at the trunk and took her own bag while he grabbed his bag as well as a bag of groceries.

He led her up a gravel path to the door and unlocked it. He led the way inside and set his bag down so he could turn on a light.

The cabin was small, Kimber agreed as she took it all in. The front half of the cabin was a sitting area with a wood burning stove. The back part of the cabin had one door which she suspected was to the bathroom. Next to the bathroom was a small kitchen area. Above the kitchen and bathroom was a loft with a ladder leading up to it.

"The bed is in the loft," Chris told her as he carried the bag of groceries over to the tiny kitchen and set them on the small table. "But the couch has a pull-out bed that we can sleep on if heights aren't your thing."

"I think I'll be ok up there," Kimber replied and then got a little flirty. "Especially with a strong man like yourself to keep me from falling."

Chris laughed and flexed the arm. "I think I can handle that."

"My hero," Kimber said in a falsetto voice that rolled right into laughter. "Ok, now that I'm done stroking your ego -"

"No, please, by all means, keep stroking me… I mean, it," Chris said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kimber shook her head as she smiled. "You gotta feed me first," she told him.

"That can be arranged," Chris said as he turned on the baseboard heater to take the chill out of the cabin. "You can put your bag on the floor by mine."

Kimber set her bag down, took off her shoes and then joined him in the kitchen area. She watched as he pulled a few things out of the bag and then put them in the cupboard.

"I keep this place pretty much stocked throughout the year," he told her as he worked. "I either come up here alone or with my family," he said as he put the few fresh ingredients he'd brought into the refrigerator.

Kimber noticed, immediately, that he hadn't mentioned bringing women to his cabin. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to keep herself from asking the question she was dying to ask, but she ultimately gave in. "So you've never brought a woman up here?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Nope, you're the first one," he replied, turning to smile at her. "That obviously means you're pretty special." Leaning over, he stole a kiss before he straightened up. "Alright, how does spaghetti sound for dinner?"

"Fantastic," Kimber replied with a happy smile on her face. He hadn't called her his girlfriend, but he'd suggested that she meant more to him than the women he'd dated in the past.

"Good, because I didn't have a plan b." Chris pulled a jar of spaghetti sauce from the cupboard.

"Are Italians allowed to use spaghetti sauce from a jar?" Kimber teased. "I mean, does your mother know?"

"Yes we are and I'll have you know that my mom bought this jar of sauce," Chris replied then stuck his tongue out at her. "My mom doesn't like to spend hours in the kitchen when she's on vacation. It's the only time she uses shortcuts like sauce from a jar."

"Good to know." Kimber took in the small cabin again and furrowed her brow when she recalled Chris saying that his whole family came up here from time to time. She hadn't met his family yet, but he loved to talk about them and she knew there were a lot of them. "Chris, how exactly does your family fit in this cabin?"

"Oh we don't," he replied as he dumped ground sausage into a skillet to brown. "My mom, sisters and niece sleep in the cabin with the toilet and running water while my brother, brother-in-law, nephews and myself sleep outside in tents." He chuckled to himself. "It's the only place my sister lets her boys pee outside. They love it."

"Boys are so weird." Kimber shook her head. She moved to the window that looked out into the area behind the cabin, but it was too dark to see anything.

"I'll show you the area surrounding the cabin tomorrow," Chris told her. "It's still a bit baron this time of year, but before long the wildflowers will be blooming."

"I bet it's lovely here during the summer," Kimber said, turning away from the window and watching him cook.

"Best place for watching the stars," he replied. "There's a small lake not too far away and I love listening to the water hit the shore while taking in the billions and billions of stars." He turned away from the cooking and met her eyes. "I can't wait to take you out there this summer."

"Really?" Kimber asked, surprised by his words although she was extremely flattered that he saw a future for them.

"You sound surprised," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

Kimber chewed on her lower lip as she tried to come up with an answer to his question. The obvious one was that they hadn't discussed a future together let alone decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but she didn't want to go there if that wasn't what he was saying. That said, it would maybe it was better to get it all out in the open now and be done with it?

"Kimber?" he asked, his voice showing concern.

"What are we, exactly?" she asked him. "Are we just seeing each other? Dating? Exclusive?"

Chris turned the temperature down on the stove then came over to her. "What do you want us to be?" he asked her.

"I asked you first," she replied, nervously as she looked up into his blue eyes.

"Alright," Chris smiled as he took her hand. "I'm 35, almost 36, and I've dated a lot during the last twenty years or so."

Kimber's felt her stomach churn and tried to keep her feelings to herself, but he saw right through her.

"Hold on, I'm getting to the point where I'll answer your question," he assured her, fighting back a laugh. "You're different from all the women I've dated and or slept with and in a great way. There is a reason why you are the first woman I've brought to this cabin, Kimber." He squeezed her hand. "You want to know what I want us to be? I want to be your boyfriend, for now, and someday, I hope I can be more than that."

"Really?" she squeaked out as she stared up at him with her green eyes open wide.

"Really," he nodded. "I hope you feel the same way."

"Yes." She bobbed her head up and down. "I want to be your boyfriend, too." Her eyes widened and he started to laugh. "Girlfriend! I meant girlfriend! Oh my God."

Chris continued to laugh as he pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest. He couldn't get enough of the beautiful redhead who charmed him, turned him on, made him laugh, and made him want to be the best man he possibly could be all at the same time.

When he finally let go of her, they finished cooking together and then sat down at the small table that was positioned behind the couch. They talked as they ate and he kept her entertained by telling her stories about his family's adventures at the cabin: the countless family dinners that took place at the two picnic tables outside, the time he'd jumped into the creek that fed the lake to save his nephew's favorite teddy bear, and a handful of other stories, like the time he and his brother had gotten snowed in.

After they finished eating, Kimber helped Chris clean up the dinner dishes. Then, while he slipped into the bathroom, she opened her weekender bag and swapped the flannel shirt of Chris's she was still wearing for her favorite fuzzy, cream-colored sweater.

Then she climbed up the ladder to the loft and flipped the light switch. She let out a little gasp when the loft was suddenly lit with the soft glow from a string of lights hanging from the rafters. Leaving the ceiling, her eyes took in the rest of the loft. The only bed was made up of a couple large sleeping pads that were covered with blankets with extra blankets and sleeping bags stacked alongside.

Wanting to test the sleeping pad, she lowered herself onto one and then laid down. She let out a happy sigh when she felt how soft it was.

"Kimber?" she heard Chris call, a few minutes later.

"Up here," she called back, sitting up.

"I'm coming up," Chris announced then made his way up the ladder.

"Hi," Kimber said when he appeared.

"Hi," he replied. He made his way over to the bed, where she sat, and plopped down next to her. "You changed." He tugged softly on the arm of her sweater.

"So did you," she stated, gesturing to the gray sweatpants he was now wearing.

"These are more comfortable," he replied as he leaned back on his elbows. "Feel free to take off your jeans, too."

"But I don't have any pants to wear other than jeans," she reminded him.

"I promised to keep you warm," Chris replied with smirk. "And that's a promise I intend to keep."

Kimber studied him for a moment before she stood up and shimmed out of her jeans with her back towards him. When the jeans were below her knees, she lowered herself back to the sleeping pad and pulled them off with her socks.

Turning towards him, she crawled across the pads to where he was lounging and swung her leg over his waist so she was straddling him. She pushed him down so he was laying on his back with his head on pillow.

"Hi," she said, again.

"Hi," he replied, bringing his arms up and placing them on her hips. "You've got me where you wanted me, so now what are you going to do to me?"

Leaning forward, Kimber took his face in her hands then leaned in for a kiss. In this new position, her panty-covered pussy was positioned perfectly over his sweatpants-covered cock. She rocked her hips slightly as they kissed and giggled against his lips when he slid his hands up under her sweater and dug his fingers into her hips.

She could feel his cock hardening as they kissed and couldn't help but wiggle as she felt herself getting turned on, too. Pulling away, she trailed kisses down his neck and to skin at the top of his shirt. She pulled the collar aside to continue kissing him and slid her tongue over the tattoo on his clavicle.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Kimber grabbed the hem of Chris's shirt and helped him take it off. Then she leaned forward again and showered his chest and torso in kisses and little nips. She swirled her tongue around each of his nipples, earning a groan from him. She made her way down to the patch of hair that disappeared under his sweatpants, but found her progress halted there by his hands.

"Shirt. Off." His words were short and to the point.

Climbing off of him, Kimber pulled her sweater over her head and then tossed it aside. She then pulled off the long sleeve shirt she'd been wearing underneath it, revealing a plain black bra. It wasn't the sexiest bra she owned, but it pushed the girls up and matched the panties she'd packed for the weekend.

"You're beautiful and hot and so sexy I want to fuck you into next week," Chris said as he took in her exposed skin.

In the past, when a lover had complimented her in the moment, she'd felt uncomfortable or shy, but there was something in the way Chris spoke and the way he was looking at her that made Kimber feel beautiful and sexy. She knew, with him, that he wasn't just saying the words to butter her up, he truly meant them.

"You make me feel beautiful and sexy," she told him, meeting his eyes. "And I love that."

Pushing himself up, Chris captured her lips in his for a searing kiss. By the time it ended, her body was humming with pleasure and she didn't care that he had distracted her from her original plan. After all, they had the whole weekend to play. Her eyes followed him as he climbed off of her and started to undress. She followed his lead and removed her bra and panties.

They were both naked, when they came back together. He pushed her back against the pillows deciding it was her turn to the be at the receiving end of the sweet torture she'd shown him earlier. He made his way down her body with his hands and mouth working in concert, his full beard tickling her skin as he went. She arched her back into his touch as he teased her nipples and massaged her breasts with his large hands.

The way his hands touched her became more deliberate, but gentler at the same time as he moved down her torso and past her hips. He eased her legs apart and then teased her sensitive inner thighs before moving his fingers to the velvety folds of her pussy.

Kimber's eyes closed as she lost herself in the pleasure that Chris was giving her. She bit down on her lips as he focused in on her clit and then felt tremors race through her body when his tongue joined in as his fingers slid down and slipped into her heated core. She rocked her hips in time with his digits and cried out as all of his attention sent her over the edge with a powerful orgasm.

As she recovered, she heard him tear open a condom wrapper and then felt him between her legs, a moment later. He slid into her slowly, allowing her body to adjust to his size, until he was in her completely. She wrapped her legs around his and grabbed his ass with one hand as he began to thrust in and out of her. Meanwhile, her other hand got lost in Chris's silky smooth hair as he nuzzled her neck.

Chris's hands started in her hair and behind her back, but as they both grew closer to orgasm, he pulled himself up onto his hands so he was hovering over her. She held onto his ass with both hands as he used the new position to go faster and deeper within her.

He came first, his groan low and drawn out. He lowered himself back on top of her and ground his lower body against hers as he continued moving, wanting to get her off, too. His mouth found hers for a passionate kiss then moved down to one of her breasts.

She became more vocal the closer she got to her release, which only encouraged him. Her body finally tightened from head to toe as she came, crying out and digging her fingernails into his ass as she did so.

Exhausted, Chris slid out of her and got rid of the condom. Then he collapsed next to her and closed his eyes. When Kimber snuggled into him, he wrapped an arm around her, making good on his promise to keep her warm.

Sometime during the night, they wrapped blankets around themselves, but he still used his body to keep her warm. She thanked him the next morning by waking him up with his cock in her mouth. He then fucked her from behind before they climbed down from the loft. She cooked breakfast while he showered and then they ate together with him wearing a pair of boxers and her wearing one of his unbuttoned, flannel shirts.

After eating, she took a shower while he cleaned up the kitchen. Then, once they were both dressed, Chris took Kimber outside to give her a tour of the area surrounding the cabin. They spent most of the afternoon outside, only coming back into the cabin for dinner, before going back outside once the sun had set for some stargazing.

Even though they'd stargazed on a plastic lounge chair while sharing a sleeping bag, they were both chilled when they came back into the house. They wasted no time striping off their clothes and climbing the ladder up to the loft to warm up the old-fashioned way. She was on top of him this time, riding him until they'd both come loudly and were sweaty from their fun.

Sunday morning dawned early and they had sex again before they each took a shower. Then Kimber helped Chris cleanup the cabin, preparing it for the next time someone came to use it. Then they had a quick lunch before getting into Chris's car to return to the city.

It was a bittersweet moment for Kimber when Chris pulled up in front of her place. He parked the car and then helped her carry her stuff up the stairs. He kissed her goodbye and promised to call her later that night.

Collapsing onto the couch, Kimber heard her phone ding and pulled it out of her purse. She smiled when she saw that Allison had texted her.

How was it?

Kimber took a minute to come up with a response then hit send, knowing Allison would call her back immediately.

I had a great weekend away with my boyfriend!

Sure enough, her phone rang a second later and, when she answered it, Allison screamed excitedly. She then proceeded to tell Kimber how she'd know the two of them were perfect for each other since she'd met Chris.

Kimber could only nod in agreement. She was no longer confused about her relationship status with Chris. Now all she had to stress over was the fact that he'd casually mentioned wanting to introduce her to his family. She considered mentioning it to Alison, but decided it was a topic for a different day.

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#chris evans #theycallmebecca #beccaheartschrisevans #theycallmebeccawrites #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character

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buckyscrystalqueen · 7 years ago

Text

Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 20

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst.

Word Count: 2,827

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist Aesthetic by @ravenangel33

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you think it was Gemma?” Lyla asked softly as the two of you stood on either side of Thomas on the carousel at Pixie Woods in Stockton. You nodded as you glanced around; the only person even close to you was one of Crowley’s goons in the seats a few rows behind you. After spending an hour just driving and listening to the radio, you spent the last 45 minutes you had been at the park spilling everything to Lyla about the letters; trusting your best friend with one of your biggest secrets.

“It had to have been; that or Clay. She’s probably reeling because she knows those letters will drive Jax away or land her in jail.” Lyla took a step back to process and looked around.

“Yea, but do you really think…” She almost whispered.

“Think about it, Ly. With me gone, she gets Tommy and Jax all to herself. Keep in mind; she doesn’t know I’m pregnant.”

“Damn… that’s really messed up.” You phone started ringing in your back pocket at the same time Lyla’s did. You looked at the caller ID and saw Jax’s name.

“Damnit. Ope calling you?” You asked as she dug her phone out of her purse. She nodded. You knew that only meant that the two of them were standing right next to each other. “Answer. Five bucks says Jax asks to talk to me.” You said as you silenced your call and put your phone back in your pocket.

“I can see you!” You heard your husband shout. You whipped around and caught just a glimpse of him and Opie as the carousel passed. You heard Lyla giggle ‘busted’ as you took her phone out of her hands and answered it.

“What?” You asked as the merry-go-round turned so you could see Jax again.

“You ignoring me now?” He asked as the two of you glared at each other. You shrugged as he disappeared from view.

“Nope, it’s girls day. I’m spending time with my best friend.”

“Don’t give me that. We need to talk about this.” You cocked your eyebrow as he came into view and smiled.

“Girls day.” You told him as you snapped the phone closed dramatically so he could see you. You handed it back to Lyla and a matter of seconds later, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We need to talk about this, babe.” You turned around to look at him as the ride slowed.

“Did you really just jump the fence of a kids ride? Couldn’t wait until the ride was over?” He shrugged as he walked in front of you and picked up his son and the diaper bag with a smug smile.

“Didn’t want you running off.”

“I’m pregnant, wearing flip flops with a one year old and Lyla is wearing heels. Where in God’s name am I goin’, Jackson?” He shrugged as he stepped off the ride. You turned to look at your friend as both of you followed after him. “Can I kill him?”

“No… sell his Harley. Hit him where it hurts.” You shook your head as an evil smile crossed your face.

“He could buy it back. I’ll just paint it hooker red.”

“If mommy touches daddy’s Harley with paint then daddy is painting grandpa John’s truck.” Jax said in a sing-song voice to his son as he led you toward the parking lot. With the threat to your four-wheeled child, you conceded.

“Fine. Back to cold-blooded murder then.” You glanced over to Lyla to see her walking next to Opie with her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders and laughed. “OK, we get it. You two are adorable and in love. Just you wait; this will be you in four years.” You said as you pointed to Jax’s back teasingly. He flipped you the bird but looked over his shoulder at you. You could see in his eyes that no matter how mad or scared or upset he was, he still loved you. You gave him a small smile and a nod. He paused just long enough to let you catch up and he pulled off his glove and laced his fingers with yours.

“Get a room.” Ope said. You sighed and squeezed Jax’s hand as your phone rang once more.

“Yea?” You said as you pulled your keys from your pocket and balanced the phone between your shoulder and your ear.

“Kitten? Are you with Jax?” You glanced up at your husband as you started the car to get the air going.

“Yep. Staring at him right now.” You opened the back door of the car to make a bottle and mouthed to your husband who was calling; receiving a nodded response.

“I need to meet with the two of you. It’s extremely important... And your girl friend, Lyla Winston as well.” You paused your motions and looked up at your friend, who was pinned between her new husband and his bike with a smile on her face.

“Why do you need Lyla, too?” You asked nervously. All three of your friends turned to look at you; their faces showing the same level of concern as yours.

“It’s more of a face to face conversation. I need to wrap something up so if you would be so kind, just meet me at your house. And your demon detail will be a little more obvious now.” You heard the line go dead.

“We need to get to our house now. All four of us. I don’t know what it is but it’s not good.” You said, answering their unasked question as two plumes of black smoke came over and hovered above your car. “Demon detail; we gotta go.” Jax looked at the smoke for only a moment before taking control.

“Lyla, in the car. Ope and I will ride ahead.” You nodded as he buckled in Thomas and you quickly finished the bottle. “Do not stop for any reason. Stay close to me.” You looked up at him and nodded as he kissed the top of his son’s head before stretching across the seat to kiss you. As you got in the driver seat, you looked up to see two black eyed men standing in front of your car.

“What’s wrong with their eyes?” She asked as she put on her seatbelt. You turned the car over and shook your head.

“That’s just how they are. Ignore them, that’s what I do.” She nodded nervously as the boys waited for you to back out of the parking spot. “Am I gunna die?” You looked over at her as you trailed behind your husband and his best friend and shook your head.

“No. None of us will let that happen.” You glanced in the rearview at the exact moment that the two demons that were standing in front of your car smoked out. Their clouds followed right behind your car and their meat suits fell to the ground before sitting up seconds later. Your heart and mind raced as you sped home; wondering what exactly could be after your family.

——

“So, I’ve traced the card.” Crowley said as the five of you sat around the table in your dining room. “And it’s not going to be pleasant…”

“Just tell us.” You sighed as you bounced your foot nervously.

“This card is actually one of two things that has happened today. Gemma Teller-Morrow wrote this.” He said as he set it down on the table. “Tracking spell led me straight to her house. On top of that…” He said as he snapped and a small monitor appeared on the table. “She attempted to make a deal.” The screen crackled to life and you saw Gemma standing in the middle of a crossroads digging a hole.

“How…?” You started to ask.

“I record all my deals for obvious reason’s kitten. Jax, Thomas and (Y/N) Teller or Winchester are all flagged names for deals which is how I heard about this.” You watched the demon appear, an older, quite handsome man, exactly Gemma’s type, whose eyes flashed red.

“My ex-daughter-in-law told me you make deals?” Gemma asked. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“She’s your ex-daughter-in-law now, is she? My records show (Y/N) is still married to Jax.” Gemma smirked and shook her head.

“Not for long. I want her dead. She has some letters that will rip my son and grandson away from me and I can’t have that.” Your stomach dropped as you got up from the table and leaned against the breakfast bar behind the group. Tears filled your eyes as Gemma continued. “Her little tart friend, Lyla, too. She probably knows everything.”

“Jesus Christ…” Opie said under his breath as Lyla began to cry.

“Were you told what a deal with a demon consists of? Ten years and then I come for your soul.” Gemma huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Gladly. 10 years with peace of mind.” The demon stretched out his hand with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Wait, that’s not…” You said as you pointed at the screen and Crowley nodded as Gemma shook the man’s hand and walked back to her Escalade.

“That’s not how you close a demon deal; yes, I know. Again, names flagged. You’re my family, therefore you cannot be harmed or killed by a demon deal.”

“What letters?” Jax demanded as he spun in his chair to look at you. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment before looking at him.

“When we left Belfast, Maureen hid a stack of letters in your bag that your dad had written to her before he died. I cleaned out your bag a few months ago and found them. They were a lot of the same thing he wrote in his book but a couple of them nearly flat out said that your dad suspected Gemma of cheating on him with Clay and them planning to murder him.”

“And you kept them from me?!” He shouted as he jumped out of his chair.

“Yes because what kind of wife would I be to hand you those letters knowing what they said, huh? I would look like someone who was purposely trying to turn you against Gemma!”

“Where are they?” He asked, his voice low and threatening. You heard Opie stand up and call Jax’s name as he moved to tower over you. You wanted to cower back in fear but you forced the hunter in you forward.

“Do not think you can use size to intimidate me, Jackson. Be mad at me all you want but keep in mind, I’m 11 weeks pregnant and your mother wants me dead to keep those letters from you. I made the choice to not show you because I didn’t want to hurt you by damning the last blood family you have. Now excuse me, they are in my truck where they have always been.” You squeezed past him and headed out to the garage.

The second you stepped out the door, your tears began falling. As quickly as you could you unlocked the gun box, completely took out the bottom drawer and collected every letter and envelope you had. You double checked the bottom of the drawer to make sure you had everything before replacing the drawer and locking the box back up.

As you stepped into your kitchen again, you saw Crowley, looking over a burgundy file with another demon as Jax stood in the far corner, smoking. Opie and Lyla had left the table but you could hear her crying and Ope’s low voice trying to calm her. Without a word, you stretched across the table and dropped the letters in front of your husband.

“Jax, are you familiar with an Otto Delaney?” Your brow furrowed as you turned toward Crowley. You didn’t know the man personally but you had heard about the SAMCRO lifer enough times.

“Yea, what about him?” Crowley walked over as he flipped the pages into place and dropped the file open on the table on top of the letters.

“He just signed a deal to put the nail in a RICO case.”

“He what?!” Jax shouted as he lunged toward the file and Opie joined him a second later.

“So make that three things that have happened today.” Crowley said as he sat down at the table.

“Wait, what was the second?” You asked, dread seeping through your veins at even wanting to know.

“Well, as I told you before, darling; I am the Galindo cartel’s assassin. This morning, while I was watching the car, I received this.” He pulled out his phone and hit a couple buttons before laying it flat on the table. Your father-in-law’s voice filled the kitchen.

“I was told you were the one to call if I needed loose ends tied up? Mark is Jackson Teller. He’s threatening business and I can’t tolerate it. 30k and I need it done today.” The line went dead and Crowley picked up a bag that had been lying in the corner.

“Met him in a different meat suit. Ugly brute, that one is. Gave me this and your home address.” He said as he dropped the backpack purse on the table.

“Fuck, that’s Gemma’s.” You said as Jax pulled the bag toward him and opened it to reveal at least $25,000 in cash.

“Fuck!” Jax shouted as he shoved the bag and the folder away from him. You heard Thomas start to cry in his nursery and reality set in.

“Jax… we need to leave, like now.”

“How am I supposed to do that, babe?” He snapped as he turned back to you. “The club…”

“Fuck the club! Are you kidding me right now? Jackson we have prices out on our head and the club is going to be broken within the next 24 hours because of this RICO case. That is a life-fucking-sentence for both of us! We have the 20k from the first run…”

“The $30,000 in that bag.” Crowley chimed in. You both looked at him and he shrugged. “King of Hell; I don’t need money.” You gave him a small smile and nodded before you looked back at your husband.

“We have two different places we can go to lay low for a while until we figure out our next step…”

“Babe, I can’t leave…”

“Listen to me.” You said as you stepped past Opie and cupped your husbands cheeks in your hands. “If you stay, you will either be dead or in prison for the rest of your life by this time tomorrow. You will never be able to see your sons again and you will never be able to see me again because I’m not staying and neither is Thomas. And after hearing that she has a price on her head, my guess is Lyla is gunna want a safe place to go as well which would mean Opie is coming too. I know you don’t want to walk away from your club because it is your whole life but we do not have another option. We are at live or die. You promised me, Jax. Please don’t make me spend the rest of my life without you.” As he looked at you, you could see his entire world crumbling in his eyes.

“Brother, we are going with her. I gotta keep my girl safe and if I have a chance to miss a RICO party, I’m taking it.” Ope said behind you. Jax looked up at his best friend over your head as tears welled in his eyes. With a sigh, he looked back down at you and nodded.

“Go pack up. Meet back here in 30 minutes. Bare minimum and put your bike in the truck bed with room to fit mine, too.” You heard Opie mumble an agreement as Jax pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as your heart broke for your husband. He slowly shook his head against yours.

“Let’s just do this.” You looked over at Crowley and nodded.

“Thank you.”

“You’re family, kitten. Make sure you get everything you need out of this house. I will unfortunately be burning it to the ground to kill you. I have three shape shifters that will be taking your place and apparently I must find two more.”

“Destroy this.” Jax said as he pressed his cell phone into your stomach. “Make sure I don’t call anyone or take any calls.” He grabbed the bag of cash, the file and the letters and stalked off as you sighed.

“He’ll be alright kitten. Are you going to the bunker?” You looked over at Crowley and nodded.

“Can you call them for me? I have to go pack my life in my hunters bag again.”

Part 21

#Jax x Reader #Half Blood Whole Heart #SOA/SPN crossover

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